Okay, so it’s no secret I’ve fallen in love with William Martin’s books.  I’ve just received his A Path and a Practice, which is equally as lovely as the two I’ve touted already–The Parent’s Tao Te Ching and The Couple’s Tao Te Ching.

Since my voice is slowly coming back around (I lost it, in fact, right before I was to speak at the Tucson Festival of Books), I’ve observed life more than talked about it.  And as I’ve done that, I’ve noticed so many more things I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.  I can’t interrupt people.  Sheesh!  I can’t respond as quickly, so I have to think of what I’m going to say.  Imagine that.  I watch interactions between people…observe their mannerisms and their frustration at not being heard.  Or the opposite–people who dominate a conversation.

There are other worries, because I’m physically sick, and I can’t seem to think properly when my head is pounding and my throat feels like it’s going to burst out of my neck.  [Sorry for the graphic picture.]  But rather than worry about how far I’m trailing behind in my goals, I have to release those concerns and accept what is.

That’s why I like this poem by William Martin (in A Path and a Practice):

This is a path of few words.
Silence is the natural way of life.
Strong winds arise,
and pass away.
Torrential rains arise,
and pass away.
Even the cosmos,
which produces the wind and rain,
passes away.
Why then so much concern
over what to do
and what to say?

Our life is an expression of life itself.
Our true nature expresses itself
in everything we do.
Success and failure are seen
as part of a seamless joyful whole.
Each is accepted
and fully lived.